


when my time is up

by Slumber



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: At the ripe old age of twenty-six, Inunaki Shion is called a veteran player for the first time.Or: Inunaki vs the passing of time.
Relationships: Inunaki Shion/Adriah Thomas
Comments: 35
Kudos: 194
Collections: MSBY Exchange





	when my time is up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flaminpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaminpumpkin/gifts).



> I hope you like this extra treat!

By nearly all accounts, the mid-twenties are the peak of one's youthful years, when you're old enough to do what you want, and young enough not to be haunted by the consequences. It's the age of the spry young chicken, and twenty-six is the fountain out of which all the promises of eternal youth flow, so drink it all in.

By _nearly_ all accounts, anyway.

For athletes, unfortunately, twenty-six is but the beginning of the end.  


  


* * *

  


Shion doesn't start his twenty-sixth year on earth thinking like this. He's still fresh from the team party the previous evening, only a little hungover because twenty-six is when you can begin holding your liquor with little regret. He stumbles over tangled limbs and huddled bodies as he makes his way across the geography of his apartment— here, the island of Sakusa Kiyoomi, hugging his knees to his chest in the same position Shion remembers putting him in last night, after his first glass of beer— there, the massive land mass of Bokuto Koutarou starfished on the hardwood floor, Hinata Shouyou and Miya Atsumu like neighboring countries clinging to his borders— on the couch, the continent of Oliver Barnes, snoring contentedly from underneath his jacket.

"Coffee?" Adriah Thomas asks him when he traverses land and sea to arrive at the oasis of his kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and holding back a yawn. At the ungodly hour of— Shion spares the clock a glance— ten-oh-seven in the morning Adriah's leaning against the counter with his hip, smiling with the serenity of a saint, holding out an offering of a fresh mug of coffee. 

"That timing is too perfect," Shion says, suspicious. "Did you practice this?"

"I made this for myself, but you look like you needed it more." Adriah's smile deepens, enough that his cheeks dimple from it. "It _is_ your house. And your birthday."

"Damn right," Shion says, his thanks swallowed by another yawn. He holds the coffee in his hands, lets it sit there for a bit, happy to breathe the aroma in for the time being. "Have you been awake long?"

"Only for a few minutes." Adriah pushes himself off the counter to turn around, opening Shion's cupboards to find another mug. "Do you want breakfast?"

There is an easy way this can go, and there is an interesting way this can go. Shion takes into consideration the fact that Adriah already gave him coffee. He also takes into consideration that it is his birthday, so Shion opts to press his luck. "How's your tamagoyaki looking?"

If it were possible— and it turns out it is— Adriah's smile brightens even more. "It's perfect!" he announces, setting down the coffee he'd just poured himself so he could take out Shion's pots and pans and chopsticks. "You want everything with it? Miso soup, rice, grilled fish?"

Shion arches an eyebrow. "It _is_ my birthday," he muses. Adriah laughs goodnaturedly at that, and it's such a nice laugh, so with the first smile of his twenty-sixth year tugging at the corner of his lips, Shion adds, "I suppose I can go make the rice."  


  


* * *

  


At the ripe old age of twenty-six, Inunaki Shion is called a veteran player for the first time. Enaga Fumi of Volleyball Monthly bestows the title upon him in a feature on the _"steady presence backing up the Black Jackals' vanguard of promising young players from the aptly dubbed Monster Generation"_.

Barnes, who has had the benefit of time to get used to the concept of aging, does not even bother hiding his snickering as he reads the rest of the article in badly accented Japanese. "But the Black Jackals would not succeed on raw skill alone—indeed, the youngest players on the team credit the veteran leadership of both their captain, Meian Shugo, and their libero, Inunaki Shion, for much of their growth in the past season." He sets the magazine down only to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye. "They grow up so fast."

Shion frowns, but in this he is alone. Meian only shrugs, half-paying attention, half-texting his wife to check in about what he should be picking up from the grocery store for dinner that evening, or something equally grown up and responsible. Barnes is too amused to read the rest of it coherently, so Shion glares at Adriah, who has done nothing wrong in his entire life. 

"You're older than me," Shion says, switching to English. "By an entire year! Why didn't _you_ get called a veteran leader something-or-other first?"

"The team can't rely on someone with the vocabulary of a middle schooler," Adriah says cheerfully, holding both thumbs up. 

"What about Barnes?" Shion asks, trying not to sulk and failing. " _He's_ been here long enough that he's fluent, why can't he—"

Adriah gives him a look as, next to him, Barnes continues to amuse himself with the article. He may be the oldest player on the team, but never once in his time with the Black Jackals has Barnes ever been mistaken for an adult. Adriah, without saying a word, rests his case.

Shion sighs. 

"But it's a good article, isn't it?" Adriah asks, this time in Japanese. He's still practicing, after all. "It's good you are with the team, because you can help everyone."

It doesn't sound so bad, when Adriah puts it in those terms. "Just makes me sound old," he mumbles.

"Don't worry," Adriah says. "As long as I can stay on the team you will at least always have someone older than you."

It's the sweetest thing anybody's ever said to him.  


  


* * *

  


Shion was twenty-one, once. 

He likes to remind himself this from time to time, when the team's resident twenty-one-year-old bounces into early morning practice and is the last one dragged out of it, full of energy he has no intentions conserving and bursting with unbridled joy he has no qualms displaying.

"It's always a good day for him, huh?" Adriah notes, but with a lot less bitterness than Shion feels. He takes the spot next to Shion, going through his stretches with deliberate care. 

"I was twenty-one too, once," Shion sighs, not realizing he'd said it in Japanese until Adriah gasps.

"I understood that!"

"You know it _has_ been a few years," Shion says, quicker than he would usually say it, the corner of his lips quirking up when Adriah's brow furrows with adorable confusion. He waits a beat, watching Adriah internally repeat the words in his head to process them, before he adds, "You really have to practice more, huh? My English shouldn't be what's getting better here."

"I have to practice," Adriah agrees, nodding. He smiles brightly, as though struck by an idea. "Movie tonight?"

Shion was twenty-one, once. Fresh off Waseda and newly signed with the Black Jackals, who look nothing like the team it is today. Back then, _veteran_ meant guys like Oliver Barnes, who at the time was—oh, god—who was _twenty-six._ Shion bends at the waist, sinking into his hamstring stretch until his forehead touches his knees, and he groans.

"Shion? Are you okay?" 

"Barnes used to be twenty-six," Shion mumbles.

"...Yes." Shion can't see it, but he can feel Adriah blinking around the carefully uttered words, like maybe he's missing some nuance in what Shion is saying. "That's what time is like."

"I hate it," Shion tells his knee balefully. All his knee does is twinge a little in response. His hip starts to ache the longer he stays in the stretch—he'd had to ice it for a while after yesterday's practice, along with his arms, which are still a little bruised and tender from receiving Barnes's and Bokuto's spikes. "Twenty-one feels longer than five years ago."

Adrian chuckles. "You're funny when you're being dramatic," he says, not unkindly.

"Are you trying to tease me?" Shion asks, looking up and frowning at the guileless smile Adriah gives him. "I won't watch a movie with you tonight if you are."

"I'm not teasing you!" Adriah promises, and Shion's never known him to lie, so he lets it pass with only a small huff.

That evening, in Shion's apartment, Adriah delivers his punchline and puts Howl's Moving Castle on.  


  


* * *

  


Shion was twenty-one, once. It was the last time he held the world in the palm of his hand. 

The Chichibunomiya Cup was small and surprisingly hefty, the base of it a solid weight when his captain passes it on to him, once all the photo ops and interviews and on-court celebrations are done and they're all squished together in an izakaya too small to contain the entire team, high off their win and drunk off their asses. It's the last evening they will all be together as the team they have become, and if he pauses for a moment, in between the rowdy re-enactments and the rounds of toasts, he can pluck the lingering sensation of something like nostalgia in the air around them— if one can miss the present before it's gone. 

"Go on," his captain had said, grinning from ear to ear. "Hold it. You've earned it."

The Black Jackals call a few days later, and the rest is— 

Well.

The rest is just what happens next.  


  


* * *

  


Three years ago, Shion became the new starting libero of the MSBY Black Jackals. Three years ago, Adriah Thomas was signed on to the team. That summer was the summer that Nagano retired, they officially lost Kodama to off-season surgery, and Meian took on the mantle as the youngest captain in Black Jackals history. 

The team felt fresh and new, stripped of legacy players past their prime, and Shion and Adriah were the promising young upstarts at the vanguard of what most sports analysts agreed would be a long and arduous climb back to the top. 

They haven't had a taste of the championship since then, but this year might be a different story.

"Inunaki-san!" one of their promising young teammates calls out, waving wildly. "You aren't going to stay?"

Shion glances over to the team publicist, who shrugs at him. The autographs have been signed, the photo ops taken, the fans that came to see them gone. "We're done, Bokuto-kun."

"But the park gave us free tickets for the rides," Bokuto says, confused.

Shion shrugs. "You can have mine if you like," he tells him. From the corner of his eyes he catches sight of another teammate attempting to slink away unnoticed, so in an admittedly self-serving act, he adds, "Make Sakusa-kun go with you, it looks like a little excitement will do him some good."

Bokuto takes the bait, finding Sakusa before he can make his escape, and Shion is home free.

"You don't like rides?" Adriah asks next to him, tilting his head to the side. He almost looks disappointed.

Shion wrinkles his nose. "I'm not very good with roller coasters anymore," he admits. He didn't mind them very much at twenty-three, but now they just feel like he's being strapped into a plastic seat and rattled until his head starts to ache.

Adriah nods. "Me neither," he says. "But, what about ferris wheels?"

Nagano's a commentator now. Kodama runs middle school volleyball clinics back in his hometown. Meian is still the captain of the team. Shion wonders what he'll be like in three more years.

He turns to Adriah. "If it's ferris wheels, I think that's okay."  


  


* * *

  


Adriah Thomas shows remarkable wisdom when he hosts his twenty-eighth birthday party at an izakaya instead of his apartment and, as closing time draws near, everyone magically disperses, quietly and without complaint, waving cheerful greetings at the birthday boy before they head on their way.

"Amazing," Shion whispers in awe, the bane of lingering guests vanquished by changing just one crucial element to the gathering. "The last time I had everyone over, I was cleaning for weeks after!"

"My apartment is very small," Adriah says, looking mildly puzzled. "It wouldn't fit everyone."

They're ambling along the street, the evening cool and quiet. Shion thinks his train is still running. He hasn't looked at the time in a while. "S'a nice apartment," he agrees, beaming.

Adriah chuckles. "You should sober up at mine then," he suggests. "You need water."

"M'fine," Shion tells him, but he follows where Adriah goes, which is back to his very small apartment, inside a nice building and up one flight of stairs. Shion doesn't remember picking a seat, but when Adriah hands him a glass of water he's already tucked both feet underneath his legs and curled up at one end of the couch, leaning his chin against the heel of his palm. "I'll be just a moment."

"Okay," Adriah says, stretching out next to him with a glass of water of his own. "Can I put something on?" 

"Should be something new," Shion says. "I think you're starting to memorize the dialogue instead."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I understood all of that." The smile Adriah says it with tells Shion he's teasing, and he did in fact understand all of that, but Shion's too tired to point this out, so he lets Adriah pick out a well-worn favorite. Probably Ghibli, because it's always Ghibli. 

Shion stifles a yawn as he tries to focus on the screen, Adriah's low murmuring of the dialogue a comfortable hum beside him, almost like a lullaby.

Ghibli suits Adriah, anyway.  


  


* * *

  


The TV is still on when Shion wakes up. The screen is set on the movie menu, the theme music playing on a quiet loop. It's still dark outside, but it's definitely past midnight, and the trains would no longer be running. There's something hard and bony pressed up against Shion's cheek— Adriah's shoulder. 

He slowly pulls all these details together, like the world's slowest detective, and yawns. It shifts down the blanket draped over him— where did this come from, he didn't have one earlier— and he jerks his hand out to grab it before it falls to the floor.

"Mmh?" Adriah mumbles, caught between wakefulness and sleep.

"S'nothing," Shion tells him. There's a crick in his neck; he hadn't fallen asleep in the most comfortable position. But Adriah is warm, and the blanket is warm, and he's loathe to move. "I should—" 

"Come lie down," Adriah says, shifting in place and around Shion so that he stretches out along the entire length of his couch— and even then his legs hang off its edges, because he is ridiculously, ridiculously long— curled around an empty space Shion supposes is meant for him. 

Shion stares.

Adriah says, "Shion," his voice sweet and tender, and it _is_ his birthday, so Shion settles down beside him, his back to Adriah's chest, his waist warm with Adriah's arm around it, his head tucked beneath Adriah's chin.

Shion reaches for the remote and turns the TV off.  


  


* * *

  


Shion gets up sometime in the middle of the day, because the sun is already high in the sky and bright in his eyes. He's alone on the couch, but he can hear humming from somewhere, and he can smell something sweet wafting in the air. It coaxes a grumble from his stomach, so he pushes himself up to sit with a deep yawn. 

"Coffee?" Adriah asks, poking his head out, dimpled smile and tousled hair and all. 

Shion nods, joining Adriah in the kitchen. A mug of coffee is pressed into his palm. "Did you make pancakes?"

"And eggs. Please, help yourself." 

"I'm sorry, I overstayed," Shion mumbles, apologizing to his coffee. "I think I drank more than I should have. Thank you for letting me—"

"Shion." Adriah's smile is soft, when Shion looks up. Maybe even a little shy. There's a dusting of red on his cheeks, his dimples faint in a way that makes Shion feel like he's twenty-one again. "You can stay anytime. I don't mind." 

"And… would you like me to?"

Adriah nods, so Shion sets down his coffee on the counter and steps closer, reaching up to take Adriah's reddened cheeks in his hands. He draws Adriah closer.

"Okay," he says, and drinks him all in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments would be much appreciated.
> 
> If you liked what you've read, please consider [sharing it on Twitter,](https://twitter.com/slumberish/status/1289194987972853760) or checking out the handful of [other Haikyuu!! fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/works?fandom_id=758208) I've written.
> 
> I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/slumberish) if you wanna say hi!


End file.
